


The Best Night

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, References to PTSD, Skin Hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: There are different ways of dealing with bad dreams...





	The Best Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolves_and_girls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolves_and_girls/gifts).



Bucky woke abruptly, disoriented. The room was dark, the bed too soft, and he could only hear the sound of his own harried breathing. For a while, he couldn't even remember _when_ it was, if he was on a mission or free of any outside influences. The thought was so terrifying, he vaulted out of bed and had to leave the room.

Oh. Stark Tower. Steve's apartment, because Bucky hadn't wanted to be alone after a mission gone horribly wrong. Steve was asleep still, though, and Bucky didn't want to wake him.

In the common area, Natasha was eating a bowl of ice cream. She gave him a warm smile and nodded toward the freezer. "Plenty left if you want some."

"Uh... I wasn't interested in dessert."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Bad dream."

She held out a spoonful of her chocolate ice cream. "Want some? Helps with bad dreams sometimes."

"Dessert?" he asked doubtfully.

"You have a better idea?" she asked, that same smile on her face.

He shrugged, an uncertain expression on his face. "I just don't like being alone then." He rubbed his flesh arm, feeling oddly vulnerable for admitting it.

Her expression was understanding. "And it feels lonely, like no one understands, and you'll always be alone. Yeah, I know how that can be."

"How do you stop that? I feel stuck."

"Anchoring yourself in the present. Touch, engaging all the senses, that helps."

"Oh." He sat heavily in a chair next to her.

"Not to mention, you have some skin hunger, too." At his questioning look, she shrugged. "You're comforted with touch, and with the life you've led, people rarely touch you." At his incredulous look, she shrugged again. "I recognize it because I get the same way."

"So how do you fix it?"

"I usually go without."

Bucky gave her a sympathetic look. "So why not use me?" At her start of surprise, he ducked his head sheepishly. "Might solve both problems, right?"

She smirked at him. "There are better ways to hit on me, you know," she laughed.

He froze. "I wasn't... I didn't mean..."

Getting up, Natasha's smirk softened a fraction. "I know you didn't mean it that way. Maybe _I_ did. Or thought that you should." She took in his parted lips and laughed again. "Don't be shocked. I've thought of it. More than once."

"Really? You never let on."

"What kind of spy would I be if I did?" she replied with a rakish grin. She put aside the bowl and approached him, gently reaching out to cup his stubbled cheek. She telegraphed every movement clearly so that he could stop her if he wanted to.

He didn't. Instead, he tilted his head to lean into her touch, and hesitantly reached out to touch her arms. At her encouraging smile, he traced the length of her arms until he touched her shoulders, and then dropped his hands down to her sides until they came to rest on her hips.

"So you're not opposed to this?"

"Absolutely not. You always could've done more than look and pine."

"I was not _pining!"_ he cried indignantly.

"Or mooning over me?"

"That doesn't sound any better."

"Wanting very private time, but not ready to ask?"

Bucky thought that one over. "Better."

"Your suite or mine?"

"Yours," he said. "I probably won't get another chance to see it, right?"

"Oh, I don't know... Play it right, you might get the offer to see it a lot."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent as they went to her suite. Natasha kept her hand linked through his metal one, thumb rubbing against the palm in a soothing manner. He could feel the pressure, and shot her a questioning look. Her smile held promises in it, and his mouth went dry.

Natasha's apartment was very crisp and clean looking, with plush white carpeting, a black leather couch, and paintings on the wall that looked very tasteful, very expensive, and very impersonal. At Bucky's next questioning glance, Natasha only shrugged with one shoulder. "I didn't have many requests for my space, so Tony improvised a lot for it."

"Lovely, but not you."

"Pretty much," she agreed. "But so few realize that."

"So how are we gonna do this?"

She reached up to finger the line of his jaw. "I suppose it depends on how far you want to take this. I'm willing to take it all the way to sex." Her eyes sparkled. "I think that'll be lots of fun." She let the finger come to rest on his full lower lip. "We're both strong, flexible, _creative..."_

Bucky couldn't help but groan at the innuendo. "I'm clean. And game if you are."

Natasha's grin was utterly delighted. "Definitely game. And clean." She grasped Bucky by both hands and drew him into the bedroom. The fluffy white carpet continued, and she had a gorgeously elaborate wrought iron headboard and footboard on her king sized bed. The coverlet was a deep, plush material, white with delicate blue and black filigree on it, with matching pillow cases. The black lines were thin, like shadows against the blue. No red or black was on the bed at all otherwise, and the walls were cream colored with dozens of photos of the team in serious and silly situations, as well as photos of random places around the world at half cocked angles. There was also a bookcase stuffed with novels in various languages.

"This is definitely you," Bucky murmured appreciatively.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt. "The inner sanctum, so to speak. Lucky you." Her grin was utterly lascivious. "And maybe literally."

He laughed, tension broken. With her terrible jokes and innuendo and personalized room, this wasn't some kind of pity fuck or misguided mission. It was genuinely Natasha interested in him, wanting to touch him, helping to ground him. It would help her, too, but this was clearly more for his benefit right now.

If it wasn't so new and inappropriate, he'd outright tell her that he loved her.

Instead, Bucky grasped the shirt he had fallen asleep in and whipped it off. She stopped him from simply shucking out of his pants. "Tsk. We've got _hours,_ Barnes, and I don't plan on wasting a single minute."

Oh. _Oh._ His mind shorted out and her smile told him that she knew it, too. He couldn't care less, especially when her fingers ghosted over his chest. Gently, gently, then not so gently, tracing the planes and angles of his muscled chest. Still, Bucky didn't feel objectified. It felt like she was memorizing his body with touch, gradually making him accustomed to her, slowly getting him used to her breath and fingers and gaze.

And oh, how he _wanted._

Not knowing the rules of this game, he kept his arms to his sides. Bucky let her caress him, run her lips and tongue over his pectorals as her hands ran lower, or looped to start touching his back. She didn't shy away from his metal arm, either, though her touch was harder so the sensors could pick it up. He couldn't feel her lips on the metal even though he could see it, but could feel the press of her clothed breasts against his chest.

"You can touch me, too, if you want," she purred.

"Hardly seems fair, when you got a shirt on."

"I suppose we should be even..."

His mouth ran dry again when she pulled off her pajama shirt. "Can I...?"

Her smile was welcoming. "I'd be insulted if you didn't want to." Her tone was teasing, not so serious, and was the right kind of mood so that he didn't feel self conscious about staring or being stared at.

It was heady, touching her and being touched in return, caresses and being able to dip his head down to press or drag his lips across her skin. She let out a happy sigh at that, then ran her fingers through his hair. Her other hand traced his spine, first fingertips and then nails. Bucky couldn't help his own little groan of satisfaction, which led her to do it again. Alternating between gentle and harder, soft fingertips and blunt edged nails, caresses and scratches. He nibbled at the join of her shoulder, down to the collarbone and to the top slopes of her breasts as she scratched at his scalp, almost as if he was a cat. He arched his back, and her other hand scratched at his spine.

There wasn't a need to speak, not when both were so responsive and attentive to touch. Everything was fair game, so he could suckle a breast just as easily as she could lick at one of his flat nipples. Even the scar tissue at his shoulder, which he'd never particularly thought of as sensitive, became so under her lips and hands. Natasha's breathing was as ragged as his own, and his cock twitched a little at the thought of turning her on as much as she was turning him on.

In his eagerness, he pushed her onto her bed, and she actually giggled as she toppled over. He pulled at her sleep pants and panties until she was bare to his gaze and he could drop to his knees to feast on her.

Natasha's moans and cries were music to his ears, but it wasn't enough. He curled his tongue into her as he gripped her hips to keep her steady. Her juices rolled across his tongue, and he drank it in, thirsty for more. Even after she came and yanked on his hair, Bucky tightened his grip on her hips hard enough to bruise, and continued to eat her out until her moans became shrieks of pleasure.

His cock ached, and only then did he lean back to lick his wet lips. "Get up here and fuck me," Natasha demanded, voice shaky.

"As you wish," he murmured, climbing on top of her. She grasped his cock, giving it a few strokes until she could help guide it inside of her. He moved hard and fast, the slick feel of her making him groan in pleasure. Bucky laid over her, pressing his body to hers, skin to skin, and reveled in the feel of her. Natasha scratched down his back, clutched his ass, and made him _feel_ everything.

He couldn't hold out for long, but she urged him to continue rocking and thrusting. Bucky cried out, shuddering above her. He felt her clench down hard, and then she pushed at him so he could roll over onto his back. She managed to hang on enough so he didn't slip out, awkward maneuver that it was, and ground down hard on him. He grit his teeth and tried to last long enough for her, but it was _too much._ He reached down to stroke at her oversensitive clit to help her along; a few strokes, and she damn near convulsed around him.

Bucky tightened his grip on her, which led her to croon. He'd have to remember that for next time, if there was a next time. Apparently they both liked it rough and wild, not just sedate and slow.

When he was going to withdraw and clean up, she dug her fingers into his shoulders to keep him in place. "Don't go."

"But it'll be messy..."

"That's what laundry is for," she mumbled, refusing to move. "Stay." She made a soft and happy humming noise, smiling down at him. "I like this."

"Me, too," he admitted. "I'll stay."

They disentangled their limbs almost reluctantly. Bucky curled around her, settling his weight over her evenly. He closed his eyes, not intending to actually sleep right away, but the exhaustion and endorphins finally got to him.

There weren't any nightmares when he woke, and Natasha seemed just as refreshed as always in the morning. At first, he thought it would be awkward, and he'd have to do some kind of walk of shame. Natasha only grinned at him as she sat up and stretched. "Mmmm. We should do this again. And often."

He found himself giving her a sappy grin. "And hang out in the City a lot. Lots of fun places to explore."

Her gaze was soft and fond. "Great idea, James."

The way his name was a purr on her tongue _did things_ to him. Oh, yes. This was probably the best night of his life after all.

The End


End file.
